MINNESOTA Moments

Take me out to the ball game

By Mike Nistler

Today is opening day for Major League Baseball in Minnesota as the Twins host the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. It used to be the California Angels, then the Anaheim Angels. Now, this moniker. Phooey.

Anyhow, it's snowing like mad outside. If the Twins were still playing at the old Met Stadium, today's game wouldn't be played. And, in two years when the Twins open their new outdoor stadium, if we get a repeat of this weather, no game. I'm not sure that's a bad thing. The roads are going to be in terrible shape for those fans attending tonight's game. They've already called an early end to the school day at several schools across the state.

So, it appears that March is going out like a lion. If this snow were happening tomorrow, everyone would be saying this was a big April fools joke. Well, this isn't a joke.

I remember a spring a lot like this when I was a senior in high school. I played baseball and we had a really good team. We eventually won the conference title that year, but not after many trials and tribulations concerning the weather. I still have our schedule for that year in a scrapbook somewhere that shows games crossed off the schedule due to snow and cold. It was a miserable spring. We played games with snow surrounding the field. And it was cold. Brrr.

I'm glad I'm retired from playing the game, although thoughts of making a comeback still flit through my brain. I guess old ball players die hard, even on a snowy opening day in Minnesota.

Winona Warriors win

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

     Usually I could care less about sports. Probably not the smartest comment to make in a sports-crazed society, right? But it’s the truth.

     However, this weekend I became a basketball fan, for several hours at least. The Winona State University men’s basketball team played in the NCAA Division II championship game Saturday afternoon, and won. They beat Augusta State University of Georgia, 87-76.

     I cared about the game because my oldest daughter, Amber, attends WSU and has become caught up in the basketball craze. She has gone to nearly every home game and has waited in long lines for tickets. Last year she packed into a van with a group of friends and drove 20-some hours straight to see the Warriors in their second trip to nationals. In 2007, the team lost in the final seconds.

     This year Amber stayed home. Something about a test and work. But, of course, she still planned to watch the game with friends. Back in Fairbault, her dad and I settled in to watch the game too. By half-time, we were both convinced that Augusta would win given the big point spread. I even pulled out a magazine, opting to read rather than watch a boring game. But the coach must have given those boys a little talking to down in the locker room. The Warriors rallied back and victory became theirs.

     Congratulations, Winona State!

I love Saturdays

By Mike Nistler

It's 3 p.m. and I have gotten a lot accomplished. I won't bore you with the entire list, but part of what I did was to get some of the warm weather gear out of storage in anticipation of weather nice enough to actually use it. Right now, there still is enough snow on the ground and the temperatures have been cool enough where that hasn't been possibile. But I'm anticipating the day in the not-so-distant future (hopefully some time in April) where that will become reality.

Our deck now has chairs with cushions on them. Bikes and bike carrier are ready. Heck, I even fired up the lawnmower although it'll be quite some time before I'll need to use that.

Saturdays are perfect days to get a lot of those chores done, especially this time of year. Now I think I'll take a nap.

Pizza and beer

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

   

    It’s 7:55 in the morning, and I’m sitting with a bottle of beer in my office. Not to worry. It’s empty. I dug the bottle out of the recycling bin in the name of research.

     You see, it’s Friday, and Friday means beer and pizza night at our house. The menu seldom deviates — homemade pepperoni pizza with beer for the adults and pop for the kids. Aside from sometimes adding mushrooms and olives to my portion of the pizza, little changes.

     But recently, the beer offering has changed. I’ve fallen hard for beer from a small Minnesota brewery, Brau Brothers Brewing Co., based in Lucan, population 220, says so right on the label.

     I’m really not much of a beer drinker, except for the occasional brew with pizza or the cold one on a hot summer evening. In other words, I’m no expert. But I love the Brau Brothers’ Strawberry Wheat beer. These brewers describe this beer as a “combination of traditional wheat ale and fruit ale” with a trademark sweetness. There’s mention of a hint of infused strawberry and vanilla. I figure it’s the sweetness factor that’s captured my taste buds.

     Or maybe it’s the subtle fact that this brew is produced in southwestern Minnesota, about six miles from the farm where I grew up.

     Whatever the reason, Brau Brothers offers up several choices of carefully-crafted beer—cream stout, pale ale, pilz and scotch ale—all aimed at local and regional markets. They’ve also produced two single-batch series beers, Ring Neck (as in pheasant) Nut Braun and Frame Straightener.

     So the next time you’re shopping for beer, try a Brau Brothers’ brew. Or take a road trip to the tiny town of Lucan in Redwood County and stop at the Brauhaus restaurant and bar, where I was first introduced to this fine beer.

Getting old

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

     Recently, a rather disconcerting letter arrived in the mail. The missive came from my high school classmate, Perry. He was the bearer of bad news about several classmates who are battling serious health issues. He was also the announcer of our upcoming 35-year class reunion. That’s as in three and one half decades.

     I remember when I thought someone with a 10-year class reunion was getting old. Once I reached my decade out of high school at age 27, I realized how quickly the 10 years had passed and that I wasn’t really all that old. My perspective on age and time has changed the older I’ve gotten. Interesting how that happens.

     Back to Perry. He sent a survey inquiring about when and where the reunion should be held, whether we should ask teachers and how the event could be improved. I couldn’t answer that last one. I missed my 30^th because my son was only 10 at the time and, well, I didn’t have a place for him to stay. My mom was vacationing in Nova Scotia. I asked my husband how I should respond to Perry’s inquiry about the date of the reunion. “Well,” he said, (and I’m paraphrasing here), “you’re probably the only one with a kid so young, so it really doesn’t matter to everyone else when it’s held.” Enough said.

     When I attend my 35-year Wabasso High School class reunion in 2009, I will proudly show off photos of my daughters, 21 and 23, and of my son, age 15. I expect most of my classmates will be displaying photos of their grandchildren.

Remember records?

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

     Every once in awhile I am reminded of how much technology has changed. My husband and I were discussing LPs at the supper table when our 14-year-old looked at us with a blank stare that translated into — “What are you two alien parents talking about?”

     Records, we told him. Still the blank stare. OK, records as in music as in record players. Sort of like a big cd. Then the light bulb went on inside his teenage brain.

     Now, if only we had a record player, I would dig out those "Bread," "Chicago," "Moody Blues," "The Carpenters" albums not to mention the 45 rpm songs of Michael Jackson, Roberta Flack, David Cassidy…

Merry Easter

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

    More often than not, greetings exchanged in southern Minnesota on Sunday deviated from the usual, “Happy Easter!” Rather, folks wished each other a “Merry Easter!”

    That message seemed more than appropriate with a major winter storm roaring through the area on Good Friday, several inches of additional snow falling overnight on Saturday and off-and-on flurries on Sunday. Never can I recall an Easter with snow like this. The wintry conditions likely contributed to the show of more turtlenecks than spring Easter finery in church on Sunday morning. In fact, I don’t recall seeing a single little girl wearing a frilly dress.

    The winter theme followed through at the family Easter gathering at my sister’s house in Waseca. Kids donned heavy winter coats, snow pants, boots, caps and mittens for the annual outdoor Easter egg hunt. Usually, all of the adults join the throng of kids to egg them on and to snap photos. Not this year. Most of us opted for warmth and comfort, peering out the windows as the kids searched for eggs. Several thrown snowballs and 15 minutes later, and the event had ended. Following footprints in the snow may have made the hunt a bit easier, although the Easter Bunny made it quite clear that the yard had been “tracked up” to mislead the searchers.

    As I pondered the beautiful winter scene, I couldn’t help but wonder if the spring of reality will ever catch up with the spring on the calendar. I hope so, because in six weeks my husband and I will host a joint college and confirmation celebration at our house. We plan to set up a tent in our back yard as our small house won’t accommodate 50. Perhaps I should have added this to the invitation: In case of cold weather, bring your winter coat.

Go west young woman

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

   

    My oldest daughter, Amber, a senior at Winona State University, was recently lamenting her lack of spring break plans, as in traveling to some place warm. Rather, she would be staying in Winona, studying and leading prospective students and their families on campus tours. She did mention the possibility of “going some place random,” although I’m not sure I knew exactly what she meant.

     Amber is a woman who loves traveling. She’s been on trips to Texas, Florida, the Bahamas, Maryland (or maybe it was Massachusetts, I can never remember), Chicago, St. Louis, Washington D.C., Paraguay and Costa Rica. And last summer she lived and worked in West Virginia. In this list of trips, I’m not counting the states that border Minnesota.

     Mid week through her spring break, Amber and I chatted on the phone. She commented on how her days had been rather boring. I replied, “Well, you could take a trip west.”

    She has yet to arrive  home in Faribault, which is west of Winona.

For the love of chocolate

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

     My son has a bag of Kit Kats in the cupboard. They’ve been there since Valentine’s Day. I’ve tucked them out of the way. Not so he forgets about them. But so I forget about them.

    If there’s any chocolate in the house, I know exactly where it is located. And that’s not a good thing. I have a fondness for chocolate. I confess that I’ve even dipped into a bag of chocolate chips to appease my need for a chocolate fix. My kids don’t know about that little secret, so please keep that confidential.

    As for my son and that bag of chocolate candy bars, well, I was being the nice mom by giving those to him. He needed something for Valentine’s Day. He was sick on Feb. 14, recovering from a viral bug that kept him out of school for five days. (Yes, it was some serious stuff.) Despite my good intentions, he was in no condition to eat chocolate, or anything sweet. But his illness didn’t stop me from thinking he needed something sugary.

    When he was in the throes of his sickness on his 14th birthday on Feb. 9, I decided he needed a cake. Homemade chocolate cake with homemade chocolate frosting. Who was I fooling? The cake wasn’t for him. It was for me. In less than a week, my husband and I devoured the entire cake.

    As for those Kit Kats, I have begged a few away from my son. But I am determined to let him finish off the bag of candy, even if it’s hiding in the cupboard until next Valentine’s Day.

Remembering

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

     Today marks one month since Jesse, Hunter, Reed and Emilee lost their lives in a bus crash near Cottonwood.

     I cannot even begin to comprehend such a loss. But I can comprehend how residents of this rural community have embraced each other in their shared grief. The world has also embraced them. The importance of that outside support was expressed in a postcard I received from Lakeview District Superintendent Sheldon Johnson on Tuesday.

     In part, he wrote, “The kind words, thoughts, and expressions of concern you shared during the bus tragedy in our community last month were greatly appreciated…The outpouring of response from across the state, the nation, and even the world has overwhelmed all of us at Lakeview School, but the power of that support has given us strength and has allowed us to begin the long process of healing. Please know that we are grateful.”

     An artist’s rendition of Lakeview School graced the front of the postcard. The expansive prairie sky loomed dark in the background. But at the edge of the stormy sky, a rainbow stretched toward the heavens. Symbolic perhaps that in the darkest of days, hope shines.

St. Paddy's Day and the day after

By Mike Nistler

Hello all and happy March 18th. It was simply  gorgeous this morning, waking to a winter wonderland. Now, I realize that people are tired of winter and can't wait for spring, but today's 40-degree temperatures will take care of the snow quickly, believe me. It's already happening. As I write this the snow is falling from the trees and melting from the rooftops and pavement.

I don't know how many of you attended a St. Patrick's Day parade, but there was a big one in my hometown of Pearl Lake on Saturday. Luckily for those in charge and those in attendance, the weather was better for such shenanigans on Saturday than they were on Monday.

According to my source, thousands of people showed up at the parade and to celebrate before and after at the Pearl Lake Lodge. My source, who wishes to keep his identity concealed, said it was the most people he had ever seen in Pearl Lake, even more than during the popular October fish fries or in years gone by when the softball tournaments brought throngs to town. Heck, there were more people in attendance at the parade on Saturday than there were during the Pearl Lake Lakers golden years of amateur baseball in the 1960s and '70s when they competed against rivals such as Kimball and St. Augusta.

And it's not like Pearl Lake has a big Irish population. In fact, someone was overheard saying that there wasn't an Irishman (or woman) within 10 miles of the bar. I guess all those German Catholics like to party.

Christmas in March

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

     My Christmas cactus has been blooming profusely for weeks. Beautiful fuchsia blossoms cascade from the tendrils shooting out from the main stem. I’m delighted. Never, in all the years I’ve had this cactus, has it bloomed like this. Sure, I’ve had the occasional blossom, but that’s it.

     As for my mom’s Christmas cactus, well, hers flowers every year, at Christmas time, just like it’s supposed to do. I don’t know her secret. I asked her once. She told me she waters the cactus, which is located in a back, rather cold extra bedroom, whenever she thinks of it. Her cactus is huge and ancient. It belonged to her mother, who has been gone for 51 years now.

     My cactus is in my living room, in a highly-visible place right next to my blossoming African violet. After some research, I’ve deduced that winter temperatures are too warm in my living room (my husband would argue with that) to ensure a Christmas bloom date and that I may be over watering.

     Whatever the case, this offspring of my grandma’s plant seems a bit finicky. But if I have to wait until March for blossoms, I will. There’s nothing like a little fuchsia to color up St. Patrick’s Day.

Our precious children

By Audrey Kletscher Helbling

     Several weeks have passed since the devastating bus crash that took the lives of four children from Lakeview School in Cottonwood near my hometown of Vesta. That was a tough week for me — difficult because I had family on that bus. When I heard about the crash on the 9 p.m. news on Tuesday, Feb. 19, my heart skipped a beat.

     I knew the grandson of my dear friend and cousin, Joyce, attended the school. What I didn’t know was whether 7-year-old Bryce was riding the bus. I sent out a frantic email to Joyce. The next morning an email was waiting in my inbox with the news that Bryce was, indeed, on the bus, but that he was physically OK. He was sitting in a front seat and suffered only several small abrasions.

E-mails between Joyce and me flew back and forth all week as I tried to offer any support I could to her. Her work at an area crisis center put her in the thick of things. She and her husband knew several of those who were among the seriously injured.

     All that week, I prayed. And I cried. I couldn’t read or hear a news report without weeping. I empathized with Joyce. Only two years earlier, my son was struck by a hit-and-run driver while crossing the street to his bus stop and I recall the sheer panic I felt in those early moments when I heard the news. He was, like Bryce, not seriously injured. Now Joyce was sharing with me the horror she felt when she heard about the crash, knowing Bryce was on that bus. She had been there for me two years ago. Now it was my turn to be there for her.

     But I felt the need to do more. So I composed a condolence letter to the school and wrote out a check for the memorial fund started in Cottonwood. And then I thought again of Bryce. I put together a care package for him — a teddy bear, a book, a bag of M & Ms, a letter of encouragement. Not much, but maybe enough to comfort a child who had seen more than anyone should witness in a life-time. Bryce sent me a neatly-printed thank you. He had enjoyed M & M shakes with his family. He liked the book. And he was sleeping with the teddy bear, which he named Fluffy. Tears slipped down my cheeks.

     It is times like this when the fragility of life becomes most evident, when children become more precious.

Welcome a new blogger -- Audrey Kletscher Helbling

Today I'd like to introduce a new writer to this blog. For those of you familiar with Minnesota Moments, this will be a familiar name. Audrey Kletscher Helbling, our southern Minnesota correspondent, will now also be a blogger for us. Audrey is an exceptional writer and Minnesota Moments has been fortunate to have her writing for it since the beginning.

Below is Audrey's first submission to this blog. For those of you who read the March/April issue of Minnesota Moments, you'll know that Audrey enjoys hanging clothes on her line outdoors as much as she can. Go figure. I'm just the opposite. Anyhow, welcome, Audrey!

A good reason to use the clothesline

I love writing. It can be especially fun when I’m writing about a passion — like hanging laundry on a clothesline. I’m an avid clothes-hanger-outer, just like the three women I interviewed for a story in the March/April issue of Minnesota Moments.

But once in awhile, like on rainy days and in the winter, I’m forced to use my dryer. One Tuesday morning in late November (maybe it was early December), I was multi-tasking, washing and drying laundry between writing. It was one of those first really cold

mornings of the season with a temperature of 8 degrees. I hadn’t used my dryer in weeks and just a day earlier I had hung clothes outdoors in balmy 30-degree sunshine.

As is common along the busy street where I live, I heard the approaching sounds of wailing sirens about mid-morning. I didn’t bother to look up from my keyboard, until the screeching stopped, eerily close to my house. That caught my attention. I looked out the window, directly at a fire truck. This isn’t good I thought as a fireman walked toward my house. I sniffed the air. No smoke smell. But maybe flames were shooting out of my attached garage.

I hurried to the door. “What are you doing here?” I asked the fire fighter.

“Are you using your dryer?” he asked, peering around the corner of my house to the north side, where steam billowed out of the dryer vent.

“Yes,” I answered.

Water dripped from the hose atop the fire truck as he inspected the vent and then walked leisurely back to my front door.

“You scared the fill in the blank here out of me,” I blurted.

“You scared us too,” he answered, then headed back to his rig and to the station to await his next “fire” call.

Audrey

Readers' comments

The latest issue of Minnesota Moments has been arriving in mailboxes and on newsstands this past week. I've received several comments from subscribers already, which is always nice to hear.

I always feel a bit guilty having a job that illicits so much feedback. I've been writing for much of the last 30 years. I've had newspaper jobs in small communities, as well as large. I was fortunate enough to free-lance for larger magazines and newspapers around the country (and even internationally) as well.

When you write a story for public consumption, it's bound to generate feedback. Fortunately, publishing a magazine such as Minnesota Moments gets almost all positive feedback. Unfortunately, working for newspapers wasn't always the case. Once, I was threatened by an angry reader to "step outside and settle this like a man." The funny thing was, at the time I was an editor defending one of my writer's stories. I certainly wasn't going to be punched in the nose for someone else's story. If I was going to take a beating, it was going to be for something I did. I can happily say that after all these years -- knock on wood -- that I haven't suffered any physical violence from something I've written or published.

Let's keep it that way, OK?

Enjoy the 40-degree weather. Spring is almost here.

Mike

Enjoy a taste of spring

Hello to all. As you can see from our home page, our spring issue is out. It should be arriving in mailboxes and on newsstands this week.

And for those of you who are not subscribers to the magazine, we've added a free trial offer option to our website. Simply fill it out and we'll be sending you a free copy of the magazine to read. There are no strings attached to this offer and no gimmicks. You won't be hounded by telemarketers (see my following blog installment to learn what I think about those calls). We just know that once you get to see Minnesota Moments, you'll want to join our list of subscribers. At least, that's our hope.

We hope you enjoy the latest magazine.

Mike